


A Star to Sail Her By

by atamascolily



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Celestial Navigation, Character Study, Dreams, Gen, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Literary References & Allusions, popular media in a galaxy far far away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: Luke Skywalker has always been fascinated by the stars.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 17





	1. Camie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic emerged out of my fascination with the nu!canon idea of the Jedi as space mariners, and the role of media in real and fictional universes. It's also a chance for me to play at combining the no-conflict structure of _kishōtenketsu_ with a traditional Western three-part structure, and quote some more poetry--in this case, "Sea Fever," by John Masefield.

Luke is hunched over the table, muttering to himself as Camie saunters into the back room behind the repair shop. From the rising mess of papers spreading out around him in a cloud, she glimpses geometric shapes, curved arcs connecting points in space, lengthy reference tables listing the coordinates of stars, messily scrawled calculations done with a--

"Is that a slide rule?" Camie says, unable to contain her laughter. 

Luke snaps the offending device shut with a clatter. His hunch deepens as he retreats inward like a singed sarlacc. "Yes." 

"You do know there are droids for that, right? Nobody does it the hard way anymore." 

Luke meets her gaze squarely for the first time. "I know. But I need to be able to do it for myself." 

"Why?" She doesn't know why she cares, but her curiosity gets the better of her, and the question pops out before she can stop it. 

Luke hesitates, sensing a trap. 

She gives him what she hopes is a confident, winning smile, the kind that melts hearts and open doors. She's good at it--she's been practicing in the mirror every day since she was twelve. Luke has always been an easy target. 

He caves, as he always does under pressure. Doesn't he realize how boring and predictable he is? He needs to grow up, develop more of a backbone if he expects her to be interested. 

Quietly, he says, "If I'm going to be a pilot like my father, I have to know this stuff backwards and forwards." 

His lower lip trembles slightly, and he flops a tuft of shaggy blond hair out of his eyes, but his voice is steady fervor of a religious convert, like the mad monks who live out in Beggar's Canyon and proselytize for alms. Whether it's true or not, _Luke_ believes it wholeheartedly. His belief is strong enough that for a moment--just a moment--she believes it, too. 

"Sure you will," she says, sitting on the table beside him. He doesn't protest that she's blocking his pages, just shifts slightly to give her some space. "'All you need is a fast ship and a star to sail her by.'" 

It's a line from the opening of an old holoseries calld _Star Dreams_ that she and Luke watched over and over again as kids, jammed together with the rest of the gang on the creaking couch still tucked away in the back corner of the shop. Then the disc, worn by years of use and the ever-present dust before it got to them, cracked and shattered and they'd never been able to get a replacement.

Luke was crushed by the loss. He'd loved that show--and so had Camie, though she'd done her best to hide her disappointment. _Her_ favorite character was Carmela Vos, the glamorously fashionable Corellian who served as the navigator on the _Star Dream_ space yacht, and the hero's designated love interest. 

Maybe it was the similarity of their names or the fact that Carmela's the only girl in the show, but Camie spent countless hours fantasizing herself as Carmela Vos, whom she re-imagined as the heroine with a gleaming Kuat Drive Yards racer of her own, zipping from system to system with her crew at her back. Camie had acted out some of those stories where no one could see her, dreaming of adventure, excitement, a better life than anything this dustball had to offer. 

But that was a long time ago. She's grown up now, and knows the harsh truth: real life doesn't work like that. The universe doesn't care what stories you tell yourself. Survival is the only thing that matters, and Camie decided long ago that fantasies could only get in the way.

Luke hasn't learned that lesson. Maybe he never will. 

For a moment, she envies his blithe ignorance--followed by rolling waves of anger, disgust and pity in quick succession. 

Luke senses her shift, or maybe it shows on her face, because he draws back. "What is it?" 

"Nothing," Camie says quickly. Too quickly. She curses herself for a fool. Now he won't leave her alone until he ferrets out an answer. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but she beats him to it, says the only thing that will stop him. "Leave it _alone_ , Wormie!" 

He shuts up at the nickname, as he always does. He hates it when she calls him that, and it's part of why she does it, to get back at him for that glaring optimism that makes her heart ache. It's too easy to needle him. He's too reactive. Too emotional. Too easy to read. 

The sooner he learns to toughen up, the better. If it's not her, it'll be someone else. He can't hide forever from the grinding drain of life here. He can't live in his fantasies forever. 

Still, she can't help feeling sorry for him when he pouts. She leans forward. "You really think you're going to do this, don't you?" 

"'All I need is a fast ship and a star to sail her by,'" Luke sings back. His voice cracks a bit at the end, but he's got a good voice--better than hers, anyway. "Would you come with me? If you could?" 

How dare he ask her this? How dare he assume that she cares? He hasn't learned a damned thing, has he?

"You don't even have a ship," she protests.

"I know. But would you?" 

"This is entirely hypothetical. No, no, I won't." 

"Okay, I get it," he says, not deterred in the slightest. "Someday I'll have a ship of my own, and things will be a different. Let me know if you change your mind then." 

"Sure," she says flippantly, because it's easier than arguing. It'll never happen. His uncle will never let him leave the farm. Luke's so sun-blinded by his own dreams of glory, he's the only one who can't see it. 

But enough is enough. She only came inside to get out of the heat for a bit and it's time to go back to work. She stands up, brushing the sand out of her skirt. "Good seeing you, Wormie. Take care." 

He waves, and goes back to his calculations, humming the _Star Dreams_ opening to himself as she stalks off with all the dignity she can muster. Still, she can't help thinking about the show all the way back to the shadehouse--that damn song is stuck in her head now, too. 

Back at the shadehouse, Camie discovers a water line has burst, and precious liquid is spraying in all directions in a very expensive malfunction. By the time she's gotten it under control, she's soaked to skin, the conversation with Luke forgotten in the chaos. 

It's only years later, after the Lars' farm burns to the ground, and rumors swirl of a Skywalker in the Rebellion--the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, no less--that she wonders if he was right to hope for something better, and _she_ was the foolish one of the pair. 

And if so--is it too late to make a different choice?


	2. Callista

"Do you know how to sail by the stars?" Callista asks. 

They lie on their backs on a wooden raft, the stars a white spill of brightness, pure and intense against the darkness. The raft only exists in Callista's memory, but is remarkably solid for all that, rocking gently in the ocean current as the waves pass beneath them. 

Luke hasn't seen a planet with skies this clear in a long time. There are too many lights on Coruscant, and the gas giant hovering over the skies of Yavin IV blocks out much of the sky with a reddish haze. There are so few settlements here on Chad, it's almost like being in space. He clears his throat as he ponders Callista's qustion. 

"I knew how to find my way home when I was a kid," he says at last. "I'd fly out to the middle of nowhere and watch the stars whenever I couldn't sleep. I'd lie on my back just like this and pretend I was out in space, floating among the stars. Never mind any danger from the Sand People--I figured I could see them coming from a distance with so few landmarks on the horizon."

"Did your aunt and uncle teach you the names of the stars? That's one of one of the first lessons I remember as a child." 

"Yes, but my uncle pitched a fit when I said I wanted to learn interstellar navigation--he didn't want me leaving the farm. So I signed up for correspondence courses and didn't tell him. I had to smuggle it all in--made all pickups and errands into town so he wouldn't find out." He couldn't help a chuckle at the memory, though it hadn't seemed so funny at the time. 

"'I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky. And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,'" Callista sings. Her voice is lovely, a deep and throaty alto. Luke could listen to her sing forever, but he's caught off-guard by the familiar words and tune. 

"You've seen _Star Dreams_?" he says. He shouldn't be surprised, that show is so _old_ , and Callista has been trapped in a computer for decades, but-- 

Callista laughs good-naturedly at his bewilderment. "It's an old sea-shanty from Chad we sang when I was growing up. Or maybe it's from somewhere else and my ancestors brought it with them when they settled there--there's a Corellian version, too, I think. Now that you mention it, I think it was the opening for a holoseries that was popular during the height of the Clone Wars, but I never had time to watch it. Have you seen it? Is it good?" 

"It was the _best_ ," Luke says, and launches into a drawn-out recap. Callista listens patiently, occasionally asking a question, but never gets bored with him. No one else has ever done that and the attention is intoxicating. 

"And just think," he says by way of conclusion. "Tatooine was so far out, we were always the last to know about these things. It's funny that we grew up with the same song, when everything else was different." 

"It _is_ funny," Callista agrees. "I told you the universe has a sense of humor." 

She's right, of course. They sit for a long time in silence, contemplating that.

"You know," Callista says at last. "Master Altis once said that before the Jedi were guardians of peace and justice, we were navigators, scout, beacons of light. We lit the way and found the safe paths in between systems, charting courses between stars. Now everyone takes the space lanes for granted, but--" A long pause. "I'd forgotten about that until just now." 

"I never knew," Luke says softly. "First Ben died, and then Yoda--we had so little time together. So much lost--" 

Callista smiles. "Maybe you're the one to bring it back."


	3. Mara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The navigation data Mara cites is based on [this Wookiepeedia entry](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gordian_Reach/Legends) about the Gordian Reach.

"What do you mean, use the Force to navigate through hyperspace?" Mara Jade says, staring at Skywalker as if he's grown a second head. "That's what computers are _for_ , Skywalker. Why would you ever do anything so damn _stupid_ \--" 

"I know it sounds crazy, but I want to try it," Skywalker says, gesturing up at the night sky above them, the red gas giant dominating the sky of Yavin IV. "Ben told me a long time ago to turn off my targeting computer and trust my feelings, and it worked out all right. I think the same approach will work here, if the books and charts I've been studying are correct." 

"You don't need to do this," Mara says. "If you slip up, get even a tenth of a coordinate off where you should be, you'll end up stuck in a star or something." 

"There's always a risk, but if we could shave off a little time off in transit with a new route--can you imagine how that would impact your trading business?" 

It's true. As the old adage goes, time is money, and even a few hours off the usual schedule would be enough to enrich her coffers if she played her cards right. But that alone wouldn't be enough for her to risk her ship, not even for Skywalker's bright blue eyes and pleading smile. 

Mara can come up with all the excuses she wants, but the truth is Skywalker is hard to say no to when he's got his mind on something. And if he's going to pull an idiotic stunt like this, she might as well come along to keep him out of trouble, instead of getting yanked out of her routine by rushing to the rescue anyway. Which has already happened several times before. 

(What is it with that man and being trapped in deep space, anyway? She should start charging him for deep-space pick-ups or something, lest he start mistaking her for a taxi service.)

Sensing her acquiescence, Skywalker insists on showing her the books he dug up out of the ruins of the old Jedi temple on Ossus. Actual physical books on real parchment, hand-copied by some poor apprentice scribe thousands of years ago. Flipping through the lavishly illustrated texts and their intricate geometrical diagrams, Mara is impressed in spite of herself. Their terminology might be archaic, but whoever wrote this knew celestial navigation backwards and forwards. 

Okay," she says, slamming the last book shut and handing it back to him. Skywalker brightens, and Mara shakes her head, not sure whether she's more annoyed at him or herself. 

"So where do you want to go first?" Mara asks, resigning herself to the inevitable. 

Skywalker pulls out page after page of hand-drawn star maps and old-fashioned calculations. "I was thinking maybe from here to the Trinovat system." 

Mara calls up a more current map on her datapad and considers the options. The tried and true method is to continue counterclockwise up the arm to Vaal and then pass through the Wetyin's Way to Jovan and loop around the Denarii Nebula from there to Trinovat. The route Skywalker proposes has them cut their way through the Denarii Nebula directly, effectively cutting the distance in half. 

"You really think you can do this?" 

Nebulae are tricky - dense clouds of ionized gases and interstellar dust. There's a reason why the hyperlanes bypassed them in the first place. 

"Yes," Skywalker says with calm assurance, as if he's stating a simple fact instead of proposing a radical feat that no one has ever done before. 

"All right," Mara says with a sigh. "I'll go get the engines warmed up and we'll try this crazy stunt before I come to my senses." 

Skywalker's surprise is palpable, which pleases her. "You'll let us use the _Jade's Fire_ for this?" 

"I don't trust any other ship," Mara says testily. It's true - if they get into any kind of trouble, Mara would rather be on the bridge of the _Fire_ than anyplace else. And if something happens to them out there, she won't have to worry about what's going to happen to the _Fire_ in her absence. 

An hour later, Mara brings the ship out of atmosphere and shuts off the navigation computer, placing them entirely on manual control. "Well?" she says, reluctant to cede the pilot's chair to Skywalker. "What happens next?" 

"We do it together," he says, settling beside her. He places his hand over hers on the controls. "Relax. Close your eyes, and open yourself to the Force and to me." 

Mara does her best to obey, but her mind keeps racing, reminding her this is a terrible idea and they are probably going to die out here--

"Do you see it?" Skywalker whispers. 

And she does. A path stretches out before them, connecting them to their destination, thin and tenuous as it winds around the shifting clouds of gas, but utterly unmistakable. All she has to do is nudge the _Fire_ forward and follow it as she reaches for the lever to push them to hyperspace--

Mara doesn't usually fly with a co-pilot, preferring to either steer herself or let the computer handle it. But Skywalker picks up on every impulse seconds after it's crossed her mind--or maybe it's the other way around. She's not sure how much of what she perceives is from the Force itself and how much from him. 

They wend their way through the stellar clouds for what feels like only a few minutes in that dream-like, connected state. Then the _Fire_ shudders to a halt, and the trance breaks, and they are back in realspace again, miraculously--impossibly alive. 

Mara staring at the bright orange Trinovatian sun, shake and weak as if she hasn't eaten anything for hours and her body is demanding catch-up all at once. According to the computer, that's exactly what happened. 

"Wow," Skywalker says, slumping back into his chair. He's exhausted as she is, hollow-eyed and sweating, but grinning like an idiot. "We did it, Mara, we did it!" 

"I see why the old Jedi didn't make a habit of this," Mara says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. It takes her a moment to realize she and Skywalker are still holding hands, but she's too tired to pull away. "There's a _reason_ why we take the easier route, even when it's longer. And you do realize the route we took wasn't stable. It won't be safe for more than a few hours at most."

"I know, I know, but we did something that no one else has ever done. Isn't that _fantastic_?" Skywalker gushes, completely undeterred by practicalities. 

"Get some sleep. You look like hell," she orders. "I'll set the autopilot to take us back to Yavin the slow way." 

"All right," Skywalker says without argument. "Thank you, Mara," he adds, squeezing her hand one last time before he lets go. 

He rises to his feet and walks out of the cockpit, humming the 'Star Dreams' theme song to himself as he disappears. 

As Mara boots up the navcomputer and begins calculating their return journey, she realizes that she's humming under her breath, and she can't decide whether she's going to kill Skywalker for getting that damn song stuck in her head in the first place.


End file.
